


Just Another Day at the Barton Farm

by Sanctuaria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Complaint, F/M, Hallucinations, Heart-to-Heart, Major Character Injury, Natasha comes to the Farm wounded after a mission, Set just pre-Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23353189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctuaria/pseuds/Sanctuaria
Summary: Natasha arrives wounded to the Barton Farm.Luckily, the people there are just the sort she needs to patch her up.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Laura Barton
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me late last night, partially inspired (in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sort of way) by a scene from The 100. Hope you enjoy!

_Push open the car door._

_Get out._

_Twenty-two steps to the front door._

_Twenty steps._

_You can make it._

_You have to._

Natasha wobbled, her hand pressed to the fiery gash in her side. Blood seeped through her fingers, dripping onto the grass. She forced her legs forward as the world tilted. Eighteen steps. The edges of her vision blurred, the center of it taking on a strange, surreal quality—sharp colors and fuzzy shapes, everything in double. Five steps.

The porch.

Natasha staggered, leaning against the beam for support, smearing it with a scarlet handprint. “Clint,” she called; his name, meant to be shouted, was no more than a ragged gasp of air leaving her tongue. Gritting her teeth, she forced her knee upward, her leg to take her weight as she dragged herself up the first stair. Just as she lifted her leg for the second, her other knee gave out, sending her crashing to the wooden floor. Her mind felt foggy, each rush of blood to her brain bringing less and less clarity with it. She tried not to black out. She tried to remember what she was doing here. Head on its side, she watched a small brown spider crawl across the space in front of her, eight legs moving in concert as it left the house for the flower bin outside.

The house.

She had…to get to the house.

Natasha put out a hand, then another, pulling herself forward across the wooden slats. Her feet kicked feebly against the wood, doing their small part to propel her forward. Her fingertips brushed the base of the door, her hand forming a fist to knock even as all energy to lift it left her. She was so close—

She was so close.

* * *

Clint took the last of the lunch dishes from the counter and dunked it in the sink, moving the sponge mindlessly over it as he scrubbed off the remnants of dried-on tortillas and cheese. “Lila?” he called, waiting for the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs.

His six-year-old daughter did not disappoint. _Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump_. “Yeah, Dad?”

“I’m doing the laundry after this so make sure all your dirty clothes are in the basket, okay?” Lila heaved a large sigh but turned to go back up the stairs again. “And tell your brother for me too.”

“COOPER. DAD SAYS PUT YOUR LAUNDRY IN THE LAUNDRY BASKET.” Shaking his head, Clint sighed himself and rinsed off the now-clean plate, setting it in the dish drainer. Then he dried his hands on the towel and headed toward the stairs himself to grab his and Laura’s own laundry basket from their bedroom. His foot had just touched the bottom step when he paused, the back of his neck tingling as a dark wave of foreboding swept over him. He shook himself, trying to convince himself everything was fine, and then took the stairs two at a time when the feeling refused to abate.

“Lila?” he burst into her room to find his daughter seated on the floor next to her laundry basket like he’d told her to.

She looked up at him in confusion. “What?”

His heart was pounding now, pumping out a panicked rhythm in his chest. “…Nothing.” He exited the room again, wheeling around and heading for Cooper’s. The door slammed against the other wall slightly as he banged through it, breathing heavily and finding his son flat on his back atop his bed with his nose buried in a comic book. “I already did it!” the boy said, annoyed, pointing at his full laundry basket.

“Sorry, I just…bring it downstairs, will you?” he asked.

“Sure, fine,” Cooper agreed, sliding off his bed and setting the book to the side.

A scream rent the air, shock shooting through every one of Clint’s muscles at the sound.

“LAURA!” He barreled down the stairs, grabbing his bow off the hook at the base of them. The vegetable garden, she was weeding the vegetable garden…if someone had found them…if someone had _hurt_ her…

“Clint, come quick!” He rocketed toward the sound of her voice near the front door, undoing the latch and wrenching it open. Laura, a bit streaked with dirt but whole and unharmed, knelt next to a body lying facedown in a pool of blood as wide as the door. Some of the carrots she had been gathering were rolling off down the steps; others had fallen into the blood, a shock of orange next to that familiar red hair.

“Nat!” Clint was down by her side in an instant, rolling her over gently to see her face, to access her neck. His fingers pressed against it, feeling for a pulse, and a deep sense of relief overtook him as he felt it jumping weakly against his fingertips.

“She’s alive,” Laura said. Her hands were already pressed over one of Natasha’s that was entirely covered in blood, with the dark liquid still leaking out.

“Dad, what’s happening?” Cooper ran up. He stopped just short of the door, eyes wide. “Dad, is that Auntie Nat? Is she okay? What’s—”

“Bandages, now,” Clint yelled in a fearsome voice. Cooper took off immediately, going for the first aid kit under the sink.

“Daddy?” Lila asked, coming down the stairs.

“Lila, stay back,” he ordered. “Quickly, Coop!”

His son dashed back to them, lugging the case. Clint’s hands fumbled with the clasp even before he’d set it down, one nail ripping as he fought to get the plastic to cooperate. Then it was open, supplies jumbled everywhere, and Clint grabbed the gauze package and ripped it open with his teeth. Laura removed her hand and lifted Natasha’s too, and he pressed the fabric over the wound.

“Daddy, what’s happening?” Lila said, beginning to cry.

“Call 911,” Clint told Cooper, nearly chucking the phone at him in his haste to get it out of his pocket with his red, slippery hands.

“It won’t unlock,” Cooper said, panicked, as he pressed the home button again and again. “Dad, it’s not working—”

“0-8-1-4-0-4,” he told him, pressing the gauze tighter into Natasha’s wound. Her eyes blinked open, staring up at him blankly. “Hold on, Nat—”

Her fingers closed around his wrist. “No hospitals,” she whispered, gaze burning into him. “No hospitals.”

“Nat, you’re bleeding out, we can’t—”

“No hospitals!” She began to thrash, splattering Laura from the pool beneath her, one of her fists clocking Clint in the jaw, her mangled body writhing up from the floor in desperation.

“Nat! Goddamnit, Nat, no!” Clint shouted as he tried to hold her down, to keep pressure on her wound even as she fought to get away from them. Her teeth bit into his skin as he tried to immobilize her head, her eyes wide and crazed. “All right! Nat, all right. No hospitals. Just let us help you.” Her contortions lessened, then stopped, the fight draining from her. Her breathing was ragged, eyes clouded with pain.

“Dad?” Cooper asked tremulously, his finger poised over the ‘Call’ button.

Clint shook his head. “No, we’re gonna try this ourselves. Go be with your sister, okay? We need to get her inside.”

Cooper nodded, stumbling back toward Lila and wrapping his arms around her as she cried. “Are you serious?” Laura asked him, her hands doing the compression now. “We’re not calling an ambulance?”

“This happens sometimes,” he murmured. “Her and hospitals… She might hurt herself worse trying to fight us or the EMTs.”

Laura nodded, looking dubious. “Okay. Are we lifting her?”

“To the couch. On three.” Clint positioned his hands under Natasha’s now slack body, mouthing the numbers. “Three!” They both heaved upward, her body dangling between them, and maneuvered her with short, quick steps to the couch, easing her onto it. Laura reapplied pressure to the wound as soon as they let go, Clint scrambling back for the needle and suture thread.

“Daddy…” Lila pleaded from behind them but he ignored her, hating himself for it, peeling up the remains of Natasha’s shirt to reveal the gash along her side—long and thin but just deep enough to bleed as profusely as it had. A knife, if he had to guess.

“Quickly, quickly,” Laura murmured. Tying it to the needle with shaking fingers, Clint poked the head through the outer part of her skin, relieved to find that the blood flow seemed to have stemmed a little. He pulled the needle through, then looped it around and made another stitch, until the entire three-inch laceration was closed. Scarlet liquid steep seeped through the narrow line, but far less than before. It disappeared as Laura packed fresh gauze on top of it, creating a large pad that she fastened down with medical tape. “Clint?” Laura asked in a hushed voice. “I think she passed out.”

“Nat,” he said, jostling her shoulders a little. Her skin was pale, a stark white compared to her hair. “Nat.”

“She might have lost too much blood,” Laura whispered.

“M’okay,” Natasha murmured, eyes still closed.

“She could die,” Laura signed at him, breath coming out in a hiss. He felt Natasha’s forehead, her skin cool and clammy and marked with red wherever he touched.

“Get a blanket,” he called to the kids. Cooper turned and ran up the stairs while Lila ran to him instead, wrapping her little arms around his middle. He lifted his hands to sign. “If she bleeds through again, we’ll take her, whether she wants to or not.”

Laura nodded, eyes betraying her uncertainty but she didn’t argue. Cooper bounded down the stairs with the thick blanket from the extra bedroom—Natasha’s bedroom in all but name—which Clint tucked around her. “Come on, let me get cleaned up,” he told Lila, who was still fastened tight around his waist.

“No,” she begged as he tried to extricate himself. “Daddy, is Auntie Nat gonna be okay?”

Tears welled behind his eyes and a lump seized his throat, but he forced them down. “I hope so, Lila. Come on, we’re going to the sink now.” She kept hold of him even when he started moving, Clint mostly dragging her as her little socked feet slid across the lacquered floor. Once he was at the sink, he scrubbed the blood off until his skin was pink and raw, teeth gritted with the effort of holding himself together. He had to stay strong, for Lila and Cooper. His hands clean, he turned and lifted Lila from her hold around his waist, setting her on his hip and feeling her arms wrap around his neck. Laura washed hers and then did the same with Cooper, cradling the back of his head with her hand.

“Take them upstairs?” he requested of her. “I need to talk with her. Find out…find out if we’re in any danger.”

Laura nodded, extricating Lila from him, who whimpered but clung to her mama instead. Clint headed back to Natasha, whose eyes wandered underneath her eyelids. “Nat,” he said softly, finding her hand underneath the blankets and grasping it securely in his. The outside of the gauze on her midsection was still white and pristine, so that was good.

That was good.

“Clint,” she murmured, just loud enough to hear.

“Can you open your eyes?”

They flew open. “Danger?” she asked him, hand gripping his like a vice.

“No, no danger,” he told her. She blinked several times, pupils dilated as her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Nat, I need to know what happened. Why did you come here? Was there anyone following you?”

“No hospitals,” Natasha repeated. “Only forty miles away. No hospitals.”

“A tail, Natasha?” he pressed, squeezing her hand. “Did anyone follow?”

Her tongue darted out to wet her dry, cracked lips. “All dead.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.”

“All dead,” she muttered again, eyes beginning to search the ceiling—for what, he didn’t know. “All dead! Alexei, Marina…”

“Nat, you’re safe,” he told her, shifting his position so that he could get within her line of sight. His free hand gripped under her chin, forcing her face toward him. “You’re at the Farmhouse. You’re safe.”

“Они говорят, что вы в безопасности, но вы никогда не делаете,” Natasha muttered, her fingernails cutting into him now. It took him a moment to translate her hurried, slurred Russian. _They say that you’re safe, but you never are._ “Они говорят шепотом, но это все ложь, Elena. Это всегда ложь.” _They speak in whispers, but it’s all a lie, Elena. It’s always a lie._ He pulled his hand from her grip as she continued to babble, as if she couldn’t see him anymore at all. “Они приходят на тебя из тени. Они идут на тебя боком. Мы никогда не в безопасности. Мы никогда не в безопасности.” _They come at you from the shadows. They come at you sideways. We’re never safe. We’re never safe._

Hallucinating. She was hallucinating.

Clint stood up and stumbled toward the sink, filling a plastic cup with cool water and grabbing a spoon from the drawer. He came back with it, crouching next to her. “Natasha, it’s Clint. I’m going to give you some water, okay?”

Her face screwed up, her body twisting away from him. Green eyes filled with tears. “Не вода. Не снова, пожалуйста.” _Not the water. Not again, please._

“It’s all right,” he promised, holding down her shoulders with one arm across them as gently as he could. He dipped the spoon in the glass, then lifted it to her lips, trickling a few droplets between them despite her labored gasps. She stopped fighting abruptly, seeking the liquid, and Clint fed her another few spoonfuls as her body slowly relaxed.

“Clint?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

“The bodies,” she whispered. “I killed her, I had to, I didn’t want to do it…”

“It’s all right, Nat,” he said, holding her hand again. “Who did you kill?”

“ _Anastasiya_.”

Clint closed his eyes. She was still hallucinating. Anastasiya, he remembered that name, vaguely. One of the other students at the Red Room during her training. Natasha had killed her at one of the advancement ceremonies. “It’s all right, Nat,” he told her again. “You did what you had to do. Ты в безопасности; the Red Room is gone. Ты в безопасности.” _You’re safe._

“Your Russian…is bad,” Natasha breathed out.

He choked on a laugh. “I know. That’s why you gotta stick around the teach me, right?”

“Can’t,” she whispered, and his heart caught in his chest.

“No, Nat, you’re not going to die. You have to fight.” His hand clenched hers. “You have to fight, you hear me?”

“Can’t,” she repeated, eyes drifting up toward the ceiling again. Her mouth twitched. “Some people…are just unteachable.”

Clint laughed, for real this time, feeling the tears begin to trail down his face. “You are going to be the death of me, you know that?”

Her gaze snapped toward him, locking onto him. “Don’t say that. Never say that.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he told her.

“Dad?” a small voice asked from the stairs. “Can we come down now?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t stop them,” Laura said, appearing with Lila and Cooper in tow. “And…I also wanted to know how she is.”

Natasha turned her face away from them, closing her eyes. “Вы дочь Антонина Дракова, да? Ты красивая девушка…” _You are Antonin Drakov’s daughter, yes? You are such a pretty girl…_

“She’s not quite coherent,” Clint said, letting go of her hand and turning to face his family. “But I gave her some water, so I think she’s gonna be okay.”

“And the other thing?” Laura asked him, mouth tight.

“I think we’re good,” he replied.

“Can we talk to her, Dad?” Cooper asked. “What’s she saying?”

“I’m not sure,” he lied. “But yeah, you can talk to her.” His fingers closed into a fist, and he felt the bite and fingernail marks on his palm. “Don’t get too close though.”

“I can’t give her a hug?” Lila asked, looking up at him. “Auntie Nat loves my hugs, right, Daddy?”

“Of course she does,” Clint comforted his daughter. “Just not right now, since she’s hurt, okay?”

“‘kay,” Lila mumbled, stepping closer. “I hope you feel better soon, Auntie Nat.” She blew her a kiss.

“She’s not sick!” Cooper said to his sister. “She got injured.”

Lila stamped her foot, eyes welling up with tears. “So? She can feel better from that too!”

“Okay, stupid.”

“You’re stupid!”

“Cooper. Lila,” Clint said, his voice low and dangerous. “ _Enough_.”

“He started it, Daddy,” Lila cried, her eyes wide and scared.

“Both of you go on up to your rooms,” he said.

“But I wanna stay with Auntie Nat…”

“She needs to rest. Mama and I will tell you if there are any changes,” Clint promised them. “But she needs peace and quiet to heal, okay?”

“I wanna help,” Lila sniffled. “Please.”

“Why don’t you draw her something for when she wakes up?” Laura suggested. “Nat loves your drawings.”

“That’s not helpful,” Lila stamped her foot again. “That’s just what you say I should do when you don’t want me around!” Laura stared at her daughter, stung.

“We appreciate that you want to help, Lila, but there’s nothing to do but wait,” Clint said. “Now please, go to your room.”

Instead, his daughter ran forward and hugged him, burying her snot-covered face in his shirt. “I just want her to be better,” his little girl sobbed.

“I know,” Clint murmured, rubbing her back and meeting Laura’s pained, bewildered gaze above her head. “Me too, Li.”

* * *

The house was quiet and dark as Lila poked her head out of her room. The door squeaked slightly as she opened it a bit louder, and Lila froze, listening for the sound of her parents' footsteps.

Nothing.

Lila slipped out into the hallway, dressed in her pajamas with her hair still wet from her bath. She tiptoed down to her parents’ bedroom, spying the light underneath the door. She crept backwards, trying to keep the floorboards from creaking underneath her as she made her way to Auntie Nat’s room. Lila knocked softly, like she was supposed to, then pulled on the door handle when there was no answer. Her mom and dad had moved her in here after dinner so she would be more comfortable, and Lila was happy about that, because it meant she would be more comfortable too while she kept her company. She didn’t know how Auntie Nat had gotten hurt but she imagined it must have been scary—it was plenty scary for Lila to see her hurt already. Auntie Nat always slept with Lila when she was scared so that she could chase away the nightmares, and now Lila was going to do the same for her.

She pushed the door open, whispering, “Auntie Nat?”

There was no answer, but by the dim lamp on the side table she could see that it was because she was still asleep, just like when Mama and Daddy had let her say goodnight half an hour ago. That was good. Auntie Nat needed her sleep so she could get better.

Lila crept forward toward one side of the bed, carefully lifting the comforter so that she could slip underneath it. She snuggled up close to Nat, burrowing into her warmth and feeling the rise and fall of her chest. Then she settled down to sleep.

…

She didn’t quite know what woke her. Blinking, Lila rubbed her eyes with her fist, stifling a yawn. She twisted to check on Auntie Nat—Daddy had made a big deal out of checking on her lots of times today, and Lila was definitely going to do her part—only to find Nat’s eyes already open.

She was awake!

Lila smiled, crawling up on her knees so Nat could look at her without having to turn. She hadn’t been awake most of the times Lila had gotten to see her today, so she was extra glad she’d decided to sleep in her room now. “Hi, Auntie Nat,” she said. “Are you feeling better?”

Her aunt didn’t answer, so Lila frowned, then waved a hand in front of her face. Nat didn’t respond. “Auntie Nat?” Lila asked uncertainly, peering down at her face. Natasha was pale and still, eyes unmoving and staring blankly up at the dark ceiling. “ _DADDY!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I'm evil. Would love to know what you thought!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha recovers and has a chat with all the Farm's residents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the cliffhanger of last time...hopefully this (eventually) makes up for it ;)

“ _DADDY!_ ” His youngest child’s shriek pierced the night. Clint scrambled upright, throwing the blankets off his legs in the darkness even as Laura next to him turned on the light. He didn’t normally sleep with his hearing aids in, but if Nat needed him… Now he was glad he had.

“LILA!” He tore himself from the bedsheets, nearly tripping as he made for the door. Behind him, Laura was equally affected if not more, the only thing keeping her from reaching it before him being that she slept on the far side of the bed. Clint burst through it, Laura at his heels.

“ _DADDY HELP!_ ” The sound of his daughter in distress spurred him on—was that coming from _Natasha’s_ room?—and he nearly skidded right past Natasha’s door, catching himself on the doorframe. He yanked the door open to find Lila crying on top of the bedspread, shaking Natasha’s body. “Is she dead, Daddy?” Lila sobbed. Oh, god, no…

“Let me see,” Clint said, gently removing Lila’s hands. Natasha’s body fell back to its original position. Her eyes were open, blank, staring at the ceiling. Lifeless. She was lifeless, and it was his fault—his stupid decision to listen to her when she was obviously not in her right mind and not take her to the hospital. His partner was dead because of _him_.

“Nat,” he whispered, saying her name like a prayer. His hands ghosted across her forehead. “She’s still warm; I can start compressions—”

“No,” Laura said.

His head snapped up to look at her. “It’s not too late, it can’t be too late—”

“Her heart’s beating,” Laura told him, and he saw her fingers on the side of Natasha’s neck.

“What?” he felt for her pulse in her wrist, finding her arm oddly stiff as he tried to move it. It was there. A bit slow, but there.

Clint could have wept. “Thank god.”

“Daddy, what’s wrong with her?” Lila asked.

“I don’t know,” Clint said, waving one hand in front of Natasha’s face. “Laura, when I say go, turn the light on all the way.”

“Okay,” she said, positioning herself immediately, hand on the drawstring.

“Go.” Light flooded the room and Clint stared into Natasha’s pupils. It took a second, but they retracted. “She’s responsive to light,” he said, mostly to himself, trying to make sense of it. “Her eyes are open, but she can’t move.” He looked up suddenly. “Damn it, Nat.”

“What is it?” Concern, but also a readiness for any action, was etched in his wife’s face, the tenseness of her body.

“A slow-acting paralytic. And probably a hallucinogen too, that wasn’t just blood loss,” he swore. “SEFIR-15, or something like it. In the med kit, there’s—” Laura took off immediately, running down the stairs. Clint grasped Nat’s hand, molding her stiff fingers carefully to fit within his. “We’re gonna help you, Nat, it’s gonna be okay—”

“Please wake up, Auntie Nat,” Lila whimpered from behind him. Laura flew back in with the medkit, setting it on the bed. Clint rifled through it, bandages and medications flying everywhere, until he found—

“This is it,” he said. He pulled the covers away and then raised the pen injector above Natasha’s leg. “Three, two…” Clint plunged it downward, hearing the hiss of the needle and the medicine shooting through it. He carefully extracted the needle again after thirty seconds, handing it to Laura as he went to cup Natasha’s face. “Come on, Nat… Come on.”

 _Hyuhhh_. Natasha’s chest expanded upward in one giant breath, her mouth opening to suck in as much air as possible. “Clint?” she murmured, eyes focusing on him.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said, stroking the side of her face. “Can you move?”

“Enngh.” Her face contorted with the effort, but her legs stretched out from their cramped position. “Barely. What did you give me?”

“Remember that mission in Monaco?”

She looked confused, then alarmed. “But that’s—” Her entire body seized, abdomen thrust clear off the bed as every one of her limbs began to thrash and shake. Her eyes rolled upward in her head until only the whites were showing, pearly foam collecting at her mouth.

“Auntie Nat!”

Clint held her down as best he could until she stopped seizing, just hard enough to keep her from falling off the bed. Behind him, Laura’s arms were wrapped around Lila’s head, obstructing her view and stroking her hair. “Get her out of here,” he directed without looking up, and he heard Laura bundle Lila away, regardless of the girl’s shrieks.

“Natasha,” he breathed when her eyes slowly drifted back downward and then tightened, focusing on him. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Hold on, okay?” he asked, wiping away the foam from the outside of her mouth to make sure it couldn’t obstruct her airway. “It’ll take a few minutes for the paralytic to fully work its way out of your system—” Her body seized again, shaking and thrashing, lasting more than two minutes before she was sensate again, gasping on the bed where she lay. A sheen of sweat coated her pale forehead.

“I’m going to die,” she croaked, blood leaking slowly from one nostril. “Aren’t I?”

“No, no, you’re not,” Clint told her fiercely, believing it with every fiber of his being. She couldn’t. Not here, not now—not ever, though he knew that was stupid. He couldn’t imagine ever being ready to say goodbye, and certainly not at this moment, when the prospect was staring him in the face.

“’S okay,” she slurred. “Maybe I…deserve it. Killed a…killed a lot of people, Clint.”

“That’s the hallucinogen talking,” he said. “Whatever they dosed the knife with. You don’t deserve to die, Nat. You deserve to live, so you can right all those wrongs. You hear me?” Her body spasmed weakly, but she managed to nod. “You have to fight.”

“…I don’t know if…”

“Natasha,” he said, desperate to make her stay. “I will never forgive you if you die on me, okay? I will never forgive you if you die in my house where my kids can see—you promised not to hurt them, remember?”

Pain—a different kind of pain—shot through Natasha’s countenance. “Don’t say that. Don’t live with that. Don’t…don’t make promises it’ll hurt you to keep.”

“I’m serious, Nat—you have to fight—please—”

Her eyes were soft, glazed. “Just say…just say you love me.”

“No, you have to fight—” Natasha’s body seized again, her limbs spasming of their own accord, jerking up and away from him. He fought to hold her shoulders down, errant tears from his own face splashing down on top of her. Only it didn’t stop, just went on and on as the trickle of blood from her nose became a full on stream. “Towel!” he shouted, hoping Laura could hear, but he couldn’t leave Natasha. Just like she wasn’t allowed to leave him.

“Stay with me,” Clint begged. “Stay with me, Natasha, please.” Her body continued to seize, contorting on the bedspread. “I love you, Natasha, please stay with me. I love you, and Laura loves you, and Cooper and Lila—please stay with us.”

The tension in her body finally broke, leaving her trembling and breathing faintly on the bed, hair mussed with blood and sweat. Laura came running in with the towel, and Clint wiped the blood from her face, using it to stem the flow from her nose. Her eyes were glassy as they stared up at his, but he felt her fingers wrap around his wrist.

“I’m fighting,” she breathed. “I’m fighting, Clint.”

* * *

It was bright in the room now, courtesy of the window on one side with the curtains thrown open. Sunlight streamed in, the edges of it resting just below Natasha’s upturned face. Clint sat in the chair beside her, ostensibly reading the book in his lap, but mostly just watching over her. Her expression was peaceful, a far cry from the contortions of the night some twelve hours previous, the only mark of tension just a faint line between her brows that indicated she was still in pain.

That, at least, was normal for someone who got slashed with a knife.

Not that things were ever quite _normal_ with Natasha.

The seizures had stopped somewhere around five a.m., at least, for a total of seven spaced further and further apart. Only then had Clint allowed Lila back in to see her—to give her a hug at most, because it was the only way he and Laura could come up with to get her to stop screaming her head off. Then of course he had to let Cooper see her as well, who had woken up in the commotion but been old enough to stay out of the way. They both along with Laura were passed out now in the master bed. Clint was still too wired, too protective—he didn’t think he could if he tried.

Natasha stirred. “Stop watching me sleep,” she mumbled. “Creep.”

“Stop almost dying,” he replied. “Masochist.”

She cracked one eye open. “He caught me by surprise.”

“Who?”

“Target’s brother.”

“Where were you?” Clint asked.

“Near Columbia.”

“Right. Forty miles. Wait—you drove here after he gutted you?” He stared down at her. “I know there are only drunk driving laws, but _driving while experiencing nearly fatal blood loss_ should be counted too.”

“Save the lecture for when my head hurts a little less?” Natasha asked.

“Fine,” he said. “You want pain meds? We have acetaminophen.”

She shook her head. “I’m good.”

“Uh huh,” he replied, not quite believing her, but knowing the futility of arguing.

Natasha blinked up at the ceiling. “Did I say anything while I was out?”

“Nothing especial.”

Her gaze shifted to him. “You’re a bad liar, Clint.”

“Only to you,” he said. “You, uh…talked to Elena, for a bit. And Antonia Drakova…”

“Ah, all my greatest hits,” she said lightly, though her mouth pursed. “Did Cooper or Lila—”

“No. It was in Russian.”

She sighed. “Good.”

“You scared them, though. Big time.”

“…I know.”

His fingertip brushed her jawline, gently turning her face to look at him. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“No promises,” she whispered. “You know how it is in our line of work.”

He dipped his head. “I know. Just—just don’t do this to _us_ again. You’re always welcome here, and we will always patch you up, but—a call, or a text, or—”

“I know,” she murmured, turning her face away from him again, as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes for fear of what she might find there. “I know. I should have. It’s not the first time we’ve come here with injuries; I should know the drill, I just…felt like I was being hunted. Picking up the phone, or broadcasting my location in some way…it felt like they would find me. Find _you_.” She looked at him suddenly, her hand gripping his with surprising strength. “You know I would never let that happen.”

“I know,” he assured her. “And I know you weren’t in your right mind, either. You’ll have to talk to them when you’re feeling up to it, help them understand, but they’re strong, Nat. They’ll get through. You just gave us a scare…us all a scare.”

“I’ll pay for therapy if they need it,” she joked, although her expression was still somber.

“I’m just happy that hallucinating and reliving your past…somehow your brain still took you to here,” Clint told her.

“Home,” Natasha said, gifting him the briefest of smiles.

He squeezed her hand. “Yeah, Nat. You’re home.”

* * *

She shifted under the blankets, maneuvering her arm so that she could get at the bandages packing the wound without straining it. Slowly, she peeled at the edges of the tape, pulling it back and revealing the thin knife slice through her side, well below her ribcage and four inches to the left of her belly button. Above it was the already healed scar the Winter Soldier had given her in Odessa, a hard nob of skin that twinged and began to burn with the memory of that slug going straight through her when she looked at it for too long.

The cut was leaking a clear, reddish-tinted fluid, but that was to be expected at this stage. Clint’s stitching job was masterful as always; years of practice patching each other up had served him well. In a few months, it might even disappear completely.

Natasha pressed the bandage back over it, sticking the tape to her skin again as she heard small footsteps headed toward her room. She smoothed back her hair and blinked several times as the knock came at the door, trying to look more alive than last time. She didn’t need to scar these children any more than she already had. “Come in,” she called.

Lila’s head peeked through. “Auntie Nat?”

“Hey, _malyutka_ ,” Natasha smiled. She reached out her arms. “C’mere.” Cooper appeared behind his sister and they both ran to her. Lila immediately threw her arms around Natasha’s shoulders, hugging her, although even the six-year-old was careful to stay away from her injured side.

“Are you gonna be okay, Auntie Nat?” Lila asked once she’d let her go and let Cooper have a turn. “Daddy said you would be but I just wanna make sure. So, are you?”

“Yeah, Lila, I’m going to be fine,” Natasha told her. “Thank you for worrying so much about me.”

Lila nodded seriously. “I was _very_ worried.”

“Dad said you wanted to talk to us?” Cooper asked. “Or we can let you rest…” The poor boy’s eyes were red-rimmed, his voice shaky.

“No, I rested all morning,” she promised. “I’m okay, Cooper.” She gestured to the end of the bed and they both sat down on it, looking at her with wide eyes. “I know you saw some pretty scary stuff yesterday,” she began. “And I’m really sorry you had to see all that, and that I worried you. Is there anything you want to talk about? I promise I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Cooper and Lila looked at each other. “How did you get hurt?” he asked, voice small.

“A bad guy had a knife,” Natasha told him. “I didn’t see him in time.”

“You were saying stuff,” Lila said, “when you were on the couch. But we couldn’t understand. Were you talking to Daddy?”

“Dad’s Russian isn’t that good,” Cooper reminded her.

Natasha smiled. “I know it isn’t. No, I wasn’t talking to him…the bad guy put a kind of poison on the knife, and it made me a little confused. I didn’t know exactly where I was. I was talking to someone else.”

“Who?”

“Someone I knew a long, long time ago,” Natasha told her. “Someone I cared about.”

“Are you or Daddy going to get injured again?” Lila asked, and from the look on her face Natasha knew they’d gotten to the heart of the matter.

She sighed, choosing her words carefully. “Sometimes that happens on missions. We get injured a lot more than you know, only we usually go to the hospital first. Clint and I have hard jobs and things happen, but that will never stop us from doing our very best to get home to you in one piece. Okay?”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you go to a hospital this time?”

“Well, some bad stuff happened to me when I was younger in places that looked a lot like hospitals,” Natasha told her. “So when I got scared, I didn’t want to go. I came here instead, where it felt safe.”

“You’re always safe here, Auntie Nat,” Cooper told her, solemn.

“Yeah, Daddy is super strong and he can shoot _really_ straight,” Lila added, miming it with her hands as the last of the worry finally faded from her little face to be replaced by a large smile at the thought of how awesome her dad was. “He’s gonna teach me when I’m older, you know.”

“And what about Mama?” Laura interrupted from the doorway, raising a teasing eyebrow at her children.

“You’re strong too, Mama,” Lila said. “The horses listen to you better and you smush _all_ the spiders.”

Laura smiled, hugging her daughter and then her son. “Go wash your hands for dinner; Auntie Nat and I will be right down.”

“Okay, Mama!” With one last glance back at Natasha, they both took off, racing each other down the stairs. Laura turned back to her.

“You’re not planning to smush _this_ spider, right?” Natasha asked softly, eyes pinned to Laura’s face. “I’m really sorry for putting them through that, Laura. I never should’ve—”

“Shh,” Laura said, stopping her one with raised hand. “You’re all right, and that’s all that matters right now. Come to dinner?”

Natasha smiled, slipping her legs out of the bed and leaning on Laura’s proffered arm. “Yes, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you thought :)


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